Tracing Your Heritage Rewritten
by A. bsolute T. ruth S. poken
Summary: Left 14 years ago, a patchwork family of Lizzy-Am, Raimund, Fiore and Markus accidentally meet two seeming strangers, who will help them delve into the mystery of their parents and who they were, or are. USUK GerIta Edelweiss Swisstria . Past Mpreg. Family Story. Rewritten. Rated T for language
1. Chapter 1

Gilbert held the small little girl in his arms. He cooed down to her, "Who's the most awesome uncle in the world? I am! Yes I am!" The little baby, Fiore, reached a chubby arm up to him and grasped his pale finger. She giggled happily and soon the laugh became infectious. By the time her parents, Feliciano and Ludwig returned from their night out, the Prussian was throwing the baby up in the air and catching her, their laughs echoing through the house.

"Don't drop her!" Ludwig's eyes widened as he saw his brother almost carelessly throwing his four month old around like a rag doll.

Gilbert gave one of his megawatt grins, and threw the girl one last time, "Chill out. She's fine, see?" As if trained, Fiore let out a big giggle.

Feliciano's heart melted, "Ve, Ludwig~ She is quite happy!"

"Uncle Gil knows what he's doing!" Gilbert agreed and passed the girl to her 'mother'.

"Hm," Ludwig narrowed his eyes, unbelieving. He glanced over at Fiore. She wasn't crying, which was better than her father had anticipated. That's when he realized, "Where's Markus?"

Gilbert at the time was raiding his brother's beer stash, hidden in a cabinet above the fridge, "He's been upstairs the whole time, reading or something." He shrugged and popped the cap open off of a lager.

"Markus!" Ludwig stood at the bottom of the stairs and called up.

His son jogged down quickly, "Yes?" The three year old sat on the bottom step and looked up at the German and blue eyes met even bluer ones.

"You were upstairs reading, ja?" He confirmed with a nod from Markus, "Good."

Markus smiled from his father's approval and hurried back upstairs. After all, his bedtime was an hour and a half ago.

Gilbert took his cue to leave, and waved goodbye, trying hard to hid the six pack he had under his arm. His brother sighed but let him go.

Fiore wailed as Feliciano took her pacifier away. Yes, tonight would be another long night.

A week later, Ludwig called some other countries over. Something had to be taken care of, one way or another. Something serious.

A small blonde girl ran into the house, her curls bouncing as she did so. Her foot got caught on the hem of the rug, leading her to a full on faceplant.

"Oh god, Liz! I told you to slow down! You alright?" Alfred laughed and bent down to his daughter's level. He held out a hand which she took to get up.

"The floor smells good. Better than ours," Liz grinned and brushed a bit of 'floor fluff' as she called it off of her dark green sundress. It wasn't the first time Elizabeth had a close encounter with the floor. She had learned early on not to bother crying about it, after all she'd always fall again.

"Lord, just look at you," Arthur pursed his lips, an glanced over from his daughter to their husband, silently implying it was his fault.

Alfred rolled his eyes, "All I know is our floor needs to smell better." Liz laughed loudly as she saw confusion show on Arthur's face.

"Go on upstairs," Vash said to his son, Raimund, who just responded with a sigh. His father, Roderich stood next to Vash, a light smile tugging on his lips. Raimund dragged his feet up slowly.

"Move it!" Liz demanded sternly, as she was currently stuck behind the Austrian-Swiss. She crossed her arms irritably, hoping his pace would quicken.

Raimund, just to spite her, started to walk even slower.

Liz growled and pushed him to the side, running up. Raimund tripped down a step and narrowed his eyes. It was on. He followed her up.

"Well Kiku now has his work cut out for him," Alfred chuckled. Both being six, Raimund and Liz were just beginning starting to get physical during Japanese man was babysitting, in a sense, while the other six discussed something. Only Ludwig knew what of.

Once all the children, Fiore, Markus, Raimund and Liz were upstairs and out of earshot, Vash asked, "Now why the hell did you call us here?"

"My boss has given me some...news," Ludwig spoke solemnly, as though delivering a speech at a beloved's funeral. He might as well

"What is it?" Arthur asked softly, knowing whatever it was, it wasn't something their children needed to hear.

"My boss has told me that...that I will need to give Fiore and Markus up. I'm becoming to human, and less...nation. This rule applies to all of you as well," the German pinched the bridge of his nose and clenched his eyes shut. He didn't want to see the reactions of the others. He felt the soft hand of Feli touch his shoulder gently. It was reassuring, but at the same time, Ludwig knew his husband was crying.

There was a long wait of silence. None of them knew what to say as they had all no idea on what to say.

"Wh-where would we leave them?" Vash asked in hesitant but still stern tone. He tried to keep his composure, but the thought of Raimund being raised by someone else just made his heart ache.

Alfred's voice was ragged, as though someone had sucked all the life out of him. It felt like someone had, "There's New York if we have to, since we all know it pretty well, but I am not going down without a fight."

"Even I we were able to hide her, I mean them, the whole world would be out to find them," Arthur held the American's hand, his eyes, though, we're fogged with sadness.

A lump formed in Alfred's throat, "We...we really have no option, do we?"

Ludwig shook his head, "I have tried everything. Alles." It was somewhat surprising. The German could be quite persuasive when he got passionate about something. And they could only imagine how angry he got when they told him he needed to give his children up, "It was an ultimatum. Either we willfully give them up and we can see them when they are all adults, or they are forced away and we never see them again."

This only made the Italian wail louder into the pillow he had clutched to his face. At the moment it's edge was streamed with tears.

Roderich and Vash did their best to remain stoic. They held each other's hands. Neither of them bothered to get emotional. Feliciano was the crier. Ludwig was the messenger of bad news. Alfred was the hopelessly optimistic one. Arthur was the comforter, surprisingly. And they? They were the settlers. After all, it was a better option to give Raimund up willfully instead of having him stolen.

"C-Can I leave them something...? Prego..." Feliciano sniffled and slowly put the pillow back to its former resting spot. The Italian was finally coming to terms with what had to be done.

"I agree with Italia," Roderich interjected.

"Then it is settled. We will all leave something for our children." Ludwig nodded. The meeting was over and all of the parents took their children home sadly.

That night, Feliciano stayed up all night writing out two letters for his children, only to be read once Fiore was eighteen. He poured his heart to them out, telling them about how guilty he felt, how he hoped they would grow up to be a strong despite it all. Ludwig chose to leave Markus an iron cross. It was quite old, dating back many decades, as a reminder of the German's past. A reminder of how even in the toughest times, you can become better.

Vash was lost. He was never a sentimental man, rarely keeping things from his past. What to give his son troubled him greatly because of that. There was nothing he could give that would be all that heartfelt, so he decided to go with something useful: a mint condition first edition Swiss army knife. Roderich, on the other hand, put a lot of thought into his gift. The Austrian ran through his files of music he had composed over the years, trying to find a piece to leave. None of them quite fit, so he did what he deemed most logical: wrote a new piece. Granted, it was only a page and a half, but Roderich thought it was the best piano piece he had written.

Finally, Arthur pulled out a few of his old records. He gave her an original _Abbey Road, Exile on Main St., My Generation, _ and her personal favorite, _London Calling._ Alfred on the other hand, clasped around her neck all of his dogtags, from World War I on. The names were faded, so he didn't think that she would ever be able to read it. The tags were rusted, orange in some parts, while still silver on the others.

On August 5th, a decision was made by three pairs of parents. On August 10th, they were no longer parents.


	2. Chapter 2

It was their annual meeting. Up in NYC, per usual, as all the nations were fluent in English. The streets of the city seemed to overflow from the seams. Heat sweltered, made no better by the thousands of tourists who flocked to take pictures in front of Times Square or The Statue of Liberty.

Despite the fact that everyone was there, only a few decided to leave: Alfred, Arthur, Vash, Roderich, Ludwig and Feliciano. After all, it was August 10th, a day that would be forever burned into their memory like the branding of cattle.

A walk in Central Park was what they needed, to escape from the bright lights of the city, and from the memories that lay there. The memories of leaving the one of the few things in their lives that they would've died to protect. Leaving them like a package.

Arthur shook away these thoughts. _It's been 14 years_, he reminded himself, though 14 years had never felt so long,_ Only 4 more._

Alfred looked over at the other blonde, "I know….We've made it this far," he said hopelessly optimistically, and intertwined their fingers. The American was truly an idiot sometimes, Arthur concluded, But he had the best ways to make somebody feel better.

Up in front of the group, Feliciano ran ahead, "Ve~ There are street performers!" Sure enough, there was a fair crowd making a large circle. A stereo was placed in the very back.

Sighing, the rest followed the Italian to see. It wasn't like they had anything else to do.

"Alright, well we only have a few numbers left, but just as a reminder: We're collecting donations to allow our team to travel to L.A. for one of the biggest national dance competitions," a girl who looked to be in her early 20's announced. She didn't look anywhere close to professional, her blonde curls tied up messily in a bun, wearing sweatpants and layered tank tops.

_If she really wanted donations, you think she'd actually try to make a good impression_, Arthur thought and crossed his arms. They might as well stay and watch, as usually the street performers proved themselves to be trained well.

The announcer ran back to her place behind the stereo and scrolled through her iPod that looked like it just jumped out of 2005. It was clear when she found the right song because her face lit up, as if it were some big achievement. Jessie J's 'Who's Laughing Now' started bouncing through the air. She paused the music and ran over to talk to a younger girl, who could've easily been her little sister. The younger one nodded and followed her back to the speaker.

The music started up again, and it turned out the announcer was the one dancing. The song had an odd mix of a big downbeats, rap, and slow beautiful vocals. Then there were the words, possibly the biggest FU to bullies that Arthur had ever heard.

The dancing itself told a whole different story. Her body leaped up like it was effortless and was still able to make all of the jerks and hits sharp. Leaping up from the floor in 2 counts seemed like nothing, same with the 10 turns. And, yes, Arthur did count. He also noticed the raw emotion thrown into there. She had to have choreographed it herself, because it certainly felt natural.

By the end of the piece, the Brit had found a new respect for her, and made a mental note not to judge others by their appearances.

Next to him, Alfred clapped loudly, hollering as she took a not-quite-as-graceful bow. Feliciano was grinning like and idiot, but what else was new? The performer had gotten a few claps from Ludwig, which was quite the achievement.

The group stayed for the remainder of the performances which included a large group dance to Linkin Park's 'CASTLE OF GLASS', and the younger blonde's stunning solo to 'Safe & Sound'. Digging into his pocket, Arthur felt a twenty-dollar bill, planning to dump it in their donations can. These girls certainly deserved all the money they got. Sweat dripped down each and every one of them, so it was obvious they had been out here dancing for at least a few hours.

After the majority of the crowd had dumped their change into the small can, and there wasn't such a huge mass of people, Arthur went over and dumped his money in, "You girls were brilliant."  
"Thank you!" The younger blonde grinned, her hazel eyes lighting up with earnestness. Over in the back, her older sister, the nations assumed, was sitting with headphones in, her arms moving like a madwoman's would.

"What the hell is she doing?" Vash asked about the other girl, his eyebrows furrowing up in confusion, an expression the other men wore as well.

"Probably choreographing the next routine or something," she shrugged and yelled over, "What are you doing!?"

No response. "Yeah, she's choreographing, with the headphones probably way to loud to be considered safe."

Alfred chuckled, and dropped a twenty in as well, "Sounds about right for any teenager."

"She's 20."

"Does it matter?" The American raised an eyebrow.

She responded with pursed lips and shaking of the head, "Guess not."

Ludwig passed Feliciano a ten-dollar bill and Feliciano dropped his twenty in along with the other. The Italian smiled at the younger girl, "So where do you go? To dance?"

She recited, as she was asked that a lot, "Run It Again Dance Center."

Roderich smiled at that, and put his and Vash's tens into the cup, "Interesting name."

"Um…thank you?" She laughed nervously and waved her hand over for her sister to come over.

It took a few seconds, but the older girl caught on and unplugged her headphones. The music still blared out, though, with 'Sgt. Pepper's Lonely Hearts Club Band' being the choice. She jogged over, "What's up?"

"They really liked our performance," the other grinned.

"Really?" the older one raised a skeptical eyebrow.

Alfred responded with an enthusiastic, "Well, duh! You guys were beyond amazing!"

"Thanks! Means a lot to us," she looked around to see the rest of the dancers going off in pairs, "Though it really doesn't look like it right now…." She trailed off, "Did I introduce myself? Did you?" She looked down at her fellow dancer.

Thinking about it, the younger blonde shook her head, "Nope."

"Idiot. I'm Liz," Liz shook her head half-heartedly and waved with a smile.

It hurt. Even if this wasn't _his_ Liz, the name still stung. Just another reminder of his greatest regret. Arthur forced a smile though, and looked to the side. Alfred was doing the exact same.

Ludwig coughed into his fist, "I'm Ludwig. This is Feliciano, Vash, Roderich, Alfred, and Arthur," he said stoically and gestured to each of the nations.

Liz laughed then went deadpan, "Wait, you actually expect me to remember all that? No offense or anything." Then she remembered, "And…..this is the one and only Verizon."

"As in Verizon Fios?" Alfred cracked a real, honest smile.

"I hate that nickname," 'Verizon' pouted, her arms crossing. The donations cup clattered out of her hands and she immediately scrambled to pick up all the bills and coins.

Liz looked down at her, "You got it?" 'Verizon' nodded, "Alright. Well, her real name is not Fios, because that'd be stupid. It's Fiore, but people always pronounced it 'Fie-or-ee', instead of 'Fi-or-ee'. One of her friends ended up giving her the nickname 'Fios' and that reminded me of Verizon so, yeah. Story over." She clapped her hands together and Fiore stood up.

Fiore rolled her eyes, "That's one of the shorter stories."

It was clear at that moment. Clear as any pane of glass. They were standing in front of the girls that had been left on the doorstep of an orphanage only 14 years prior. The nations' faces all fell hearing the name, only to plaster on a fake smile. They couldn't know, it wasn't supposed to be now. It wasn't. Yet here they were, face to face with their biggest fear.


End file.
